I don’t blog often.  I admit it.  I’m usually “too busy” to post and when I do have time I always feel I have nothing interesting to say.  Some people write what they feel, puking their emotions onto a web page.  I don’t do that either, at least until now.  

My mother’s family lost their Patriarch, her brother, my Uncle Emil, this year.  Emil was the picture of family to me in many ways – especially the extended Condrau family (my mother’s maiden name).  If there was a gathering of any kind, be it family picnic or (more significantly) the Christmas Eve celebration Emil was guaranteed to be there front and center.  To not have him here this year left a giant hole in my Christmas spirit, as I’m sure it did for a lot of us.  Nothing much was said about it, but you just knew he was a major part of everyone’s thoughts.  This was very apparent when it came to the tradition of singing Christmas carols.  Caroling is as big a part of the family gathering as Santa’s arrival and, although people joke about a huge lack of singing talent all around, it is always well received and the missed notes are forgotten quickly.  But for me this year I was not ready, loathing the thought of participating.  To play the music for the part of Christmas that is Emil, to play without him – I wasn’t ready for that.  But I also wasn’t ready for it NOT to be there, so playing won out in the end.

I have played guitar for the carols for as long as I can remember, and oftentimes it is myself and one or maybe two others that do so.  It is fairly typical to be drowned out by the singers, and usually it is a good thing since the guitar key never matches them anyway ;).  One or two guitars vs. 20+ loud and proud Condrau singers – we never stood a chance. This year, however, something amazing happened.

When I arrived at the hall, guitar cases in tow, I saw more than our two guitars there.  In fact there were 4 more.  When it came time to play for the carolers, not only did we have the rare opportunity to play on an actual stage we were suddenly a group of six (Mike, Corinne, Chris, Jeff, Terry and myself).  No one spoke of how unique this was until later, when Darlene (Emil’s daughter) and Donna (Emil’s niece) both came to me and thanked us for making it a special experience this year.  This was not planned, not meant to be of any significance.  But six spontaneously decided to show up and play, to scream out how important it was to be there and to put an exclamation mark on Emil’s tradition.

Until Sunday this year was all about panic and rush.  All about making sure that the dinner was prepared, the gifts were bought, and no one was missed.  Sunday didn’t change the fact that all of this still had to happen.  But the feeling that I had when playing and seeing multiple generations of the extended Condrau clan, arm and arm in front of me, made me forget about everything that defined stress and tension.  The Christmas spirit sang to me in 6 different keys, and it was magic.

Thank you, Emil, for showing the Condraus (and everyone else) how to sing.  I never want it any other way.